


Souls stretched tight across the skies

by NairobiWonders



Category: Elementary (TV)
Genre: A little angst, A little comfort, F/M, Joanlock - Freeform, Reichenbach, Reichenbach-ish, Separation, a little hurt, moriarty mentions, morland Holmes mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-08-09 03:18:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16441988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NairobiWonders/pseuds/NairobiWonders
Summary: Just moonlight in the trees, shadows moving with the wind, not him. Not him. Not yet.One shot for now. Have too many WIPs waiting in line for completion. Once I'm caught up, I may add to it?As always, thank you so much for reading.





	Souls stretched tight across the skies

Just moonlight in the trees, shadows moving with the wind, not him. Not him. Not yet. 

Joan stood beneath the sheltering boughs of a massive pine. She turned on the phone's locator service briefly to verify this was the spot, then shut it and the phone down completely and waited. She listened to the song of the wind in the evergreens, the dry rustle of low breezes through the underbrush, the chirp and soft cry of the mountain's inhabitants. Not him. No. Not him. Not yet. 

 

_Morland died under suspicious circumstances nine months ago. His passing ignited horrific battles, minions and sub-minions all clawing to control the remnants of Moriarty's organization. A week or so after his death, like a demon set free, Jamie herself emerged from the chaos; intent on regaining control of her empire, she pulsed out wave after wave of death and destruction, all the while taunting Sherlock, enticing him to join her, and, once rebuffed, threatening to make him suffer._

_Characteristically, he took on the burden of blame for Moriarty's actions and the poison that seeped across continents. Two months after his father's death, Sherlock overdosed and fell to his death from the Robert F. Kennedy Bridge. Joan was there to see it and make sure others witnessed it as well. His body was never recovered. For seven months now, Joan guiltily played the grieving widow. No one else was privy to their plan._

_Mason a year or so back had contrived a system to redirect, ping, dodge, obfuscate their computer usage - his work was impeccable when he put his mind to it. Joan and Sherlock worked together to create a complicated web of identities on specialty forums and obscure sites through which they could communicate on set schedules after his planned demise. This meeting was the first since she watched him drop off the bridge's edge. Set in place two days ago, Joan had been ready for it for months. She waited._

 

A noise.... A whisper of a breath.... She spun and he was there, inches from her. 

Eyes wide with excitement, he took in the elation that spread cross her face at sight of him. Arms suddenly were wrapped around his neck and the nuzzle of her warm face at his neck was overwhelming. He clenched her to him, his hand raked into her hair and brought her even closer. Wordless, they held on tight. The dark greens and deep blues wrapped around them and the wind stopped and stood sentinel. 

With each breath, the tension of months of separation was eased. Joan reluctantly pulled herself away just enough to scan his face, a face that even in shadow and moonlight, reflected back to her her own feeling of contentment, of a wholeness missing for far too long regained. A cut on his left cheek caught her attention, "What happened? Are you okay?"

Sherlock shrugged the injury off, "Just a tree that would not stand aside." He changed the subject, "How are you? You got here without issues?" His voice, soft as the rustle of the leaves, betrayed the concern of months away from her.

"Yes. I left the car and my phone at the cabin and walked. I wasn't followed... at least I don't think I was. I kept the burner off, only used it as necessary." 

"Good....." He found himself emotionally compromised by her - the sweet sincerity of her voice even in reporting facts, the feel of her body pressed against his, her hands at his shoulders.... Sherlock did what was necessary to break the moment. "....Except, as always, I question the appropriateness of your footwear. Walking through rough terrain in those heels ... what if you had had cause to run ... a twisted ankle could ..."

Joan looked at him in disbelief. "Seriously? This again? I've been worried sick about you every day for months and your first thought is to berate my shoes. Is that what you care about ..." He saw the shine of tears forming in her eyes, tears he knew she would hold back just as she had so many times before. 

Flooded with thoughts and feelings he could not begin to process, he switched them all off and followed instinct - he lurched forward and pressed his lips to hers and felt his fears ease at her response in kind. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry ..." he spoke not breaking contact with her lips. 

His kiss undid her years of keeping tears at bay ... slipping down her cheeks as her lips sought closer contact with his, bathing his face with salty absolution, her tears flowed and mixed with those that dropped from his closed eyes.

Cheek to cheek, they took the moment, whispering furtive apologies and longings, until with a shuddered breath and a wipe of his face, Joan spoke, "How much longer?"

He spoke with eyes still closed, his forehead moving to rest on hers, "I don't know. I've kept to the shadows, collected information, stayed out of her way but I'm going to have to confront her soon I fear." Opening his eyes, he reached into his pocket and produced two flash drives. "All the documentation I have gleaned of her machinations. The drives are duplicates. Keep one for yourself and as quickly as you can get the other to Agent McNally. I have a statement on there for him. Do not open the documents yourself. I cannot be sure they don't carry tracers. I do not want you compromised."

Sherlock placed the small metal drives into her hands and held on. He cleared his throat and stared at their joined hands. "In three months time, if all continues as planned ... I would like to meet up again in Copenhagen. I have a safe house there. I would like you out of harms way before she is confronted and brought down."

"Sherlock, no. I go where you go. I will not be stashed away. It's bad enough now. I can't ..."

"You will, if you love me, you will ... the thought of harm coming to to you paralyses me..."

"You think I feel any less?"

The crackle of something in the nearby leaves stopped them. He moved and pressed her back against the pine tree's massive truck, covering her body with his until they were nothing but a shadow against the the tree's dark bark. Ears strained to listen. Out of the corner of an eye, they caught sight of the swish of a tail, a pounce and the sound of scurrying.

"Grey fox," he pronounced with a relieved breath.

Joan placed her head against his chest. "We can discuss what happens next as things unfold, okay?" He nodded his head against hers. "I just want you safe and this over as soon as possible." She raised her face to his, hand to his cheek, she guided him to her and one more slow kiss was exchanged.

Reluctantly, he pushed her away, "Go. The longer we stay, the more difficult it will be to part."

Joan took a few steps away, pausing to look back at him. She crossed her arms in front of her and silently signed "I love you," before turning and vanishing into the darkness.

**Author's Note:**

> I chose the Robert F. Kennedy Bridge for his jump because there is an island/rock nearby named "Holmes Rock" :) (google it)
> 
> The title is a slight paraphrase of a line from TS Elliots poem Preludes ... mostly because I can never come up with titles for my work and I happen to like that line.


End file.
